


modern waste

by jaylene



Series: company of thieves [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Cop!AU, F/M, UchiSaku Week, this started out so happy what the hell?!?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylene/pseuds/jaylene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Shisui tricks Sakura into joining him at an event, she gets much more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	modern waste

**Author's Note:**

> this was intended to be much, much lighter and more brooklyn nine-nine-esqe. unfortunately, those plans didn't keep.

 “Why are we going here again?” Sakura demands, checking her holster.

“Vacation?” Shisui says, the word coming out as a question rather than an answer. He turns on his turning signal as he guides the car off the freeway.

“This isn’t a vacation, it’s a semi-consensual kidnapping under false pretenses,” Sakura says, jaw twitching. Shisui winces, knowing how irritated she has to be to clench her teeth like that. “Scratch that, it isn’t even semi-consensual; I thought we were working on a case.”

Shisui scratches his chin, trying to ignore the guilt that creeps up his spine. “Well, it _is_ a case, sort of,” Shisui says.

“How?” Sakura asks.

“You know how my Uncle Madara is under investigation for ties to the mafia?” Shisui says.

Sakura rolls her eyes. “He’s been under investigation for _years_ , before we even went to the Academy. It’s a cold case.”

“Not anymore,” Shisui replies grimly. “If we play our cards right, we might just be able to close this case.”

Sakura eyes him for a long moment, scrutinizing.

Shisui does his best not to squirm. He fails.

Finally, she says, relaxing into her seat. “You just wanted a date for this event.”

“Maybe,” he replies with a too wide grin. “Can’t help that I have the best partner around.”

Sakura shakes her head but smiles. “You’re a dork,” she says, shoving his shoulder lightly.

“No roughing the driver!” Shisui says back. “Besides, I’m _your_ dork.”

“Whatever,” she replies, trying to ignore the kernel of warmth in her chest.

* * *

 

The Uchiha clan has a rich and prestigious history with police work. At the same time, they are also well-known for their mafia ties. It’s an interesting juxtaposition that Sakura has never quite puzzled out but she knows, as does everyone who is in the business long enough, that money talks and silences with the same giving hand. She’s seen the corruption, seen how high up the chain it goes (higher than she’s probably even seen), but she refuses to give up the work. Every smiling child, every fight not started, every murderer put behind bars strengthens her resolve to stay.

Besides, not everyone is bad.

Take Shisui, for example.

Sakura glances at him from the corner of her eyes, watching as he fusses with his tie.

He’s…well, he’s not quite an idiot but he can certainly be a little too foolhardy at times. Still, he is resourceful, quick-witted, a bit of a comedian, and quite the charmer when he chooses to be.

Sakura wouldn’t want anyone else at her back.

(Well, maybe Naruto or Karin or Sai or even Sasuke if he removed the stick from his ass.)

Shisui was her top choice though.

“So who all will be here?” Sakura asks, trying to style her bob in short, wafting curls.

“All of the Uchiha, including those pompous old assholes, sorry, _councilors_ ,” Shisui says, lips curled in a sneer. “Sasuke will be here, which means he probably dragged Ino or Karin along.”

“Probably Karin,” Sakura says with a laugh. “She’s more likely to take pity on him.”

“On the non-mafia side of the family it’ll be Kagami, Fugaku, and Mikoto. For the mafia side, let’s see, Obito, Izuna, Madara, and…” he hesitates for only a second, “Itachi.”

The breath is knocked out of Sakura.

“Itachi will be here?” she asks, voice pitched high. “Our former partner _Itachi_?”

Shisui nods.

Sakura breathes in deep. “Wow. I’m…I’m a little surprised to be honest, considering that the…the betrayal was so recent.”

Shisui flinches as if struck but he shrugs. “It’s a Uchiha thing.”

“You sure Fugaku won’t go off on him? Or Mikoto?” Sakura frowns. “Actually, it’s probably Sasuke who is the worst…”

“It’ll be fine,” Shisui says in a low tone. He looks pained. “All the Uchiha here know to leave their work at work. Home life… _clan_ life is different.”

Sakura folds her arms. “All the Uchiha except for you.”

Shisui shrugs helplessly. “You’re the one who called me the ‘most un-Uchiha Uchiha to ever Uchiha.’”

Sakura huffs out a shaky laugh, still reeling with the revelation that their former partner will be here. She remembers laughter, heated glances, easy silences, and, above all, a feeling of safety. She shakes the memory free. “I’m pretty sure I said that about your whole immediate family. I swear, you and Kagami are completely different from the rest of the group.”

Shisui shrugs. “We’re specially made that way.” He eyes her warily. “Are you…are you sure you can handle this?”

“ _You’re_ the one who brought me here!” Sakura laughs bitterly.

“I needed someone I could trust,” Shisui says, looking lost. “I don’t feel comfortable here.”

“That makes two of us,” Sakura says, anger flagging in the face of his honesty.

“Will you…will you be able to handle Itachi?” Shisui pries.

Sakura swallows, flashes of childhood giddiness blooming into solid comradery and iron-clad trust. Only for it to be lost in a single moment, on a single case.

One bullet changed everything.

Sakura’s fists are balled tightly. “Oh I’ll be able to _handle_ him,” she says, eyes flinty.

“Sakura,” Shisui says, voice a warning. “I know that tone. You cannot begin punching someone at the party. Sakura? Sakura! Don’t leave! I need you to promise me!”

* * *

 

“Sakura, you’re looking magnificent as always.”

“Madara,” Sakura greets, eyes still watching the crowd from the buffet table. She ignores the fact that she is looking for someone in particular.

Madara pouts at her inattention, stepping in closer to her.

Sakura casts him an irritated glance, disliking the break in her concentration. “What?” she asks, somewhat scathingly.

“I’m just surprised to find you coming to one of these events. You haven’t been to one since…well, your college years,” Madara says, red eyes bright and intent. “I’m curious as to the reason.”

“My partner tricked me,” Sakura says easily.

“Shisui has always been all too eager to show his hand,” Madara says lightly, hand ghosting over the small of her back. “Have I yet complimented you on your outfit of choice?” His expression turns to a smirk. “It’s very…striking.”

Sakura glances down at the short ivory gown, cut reminiscent of the flapper era. She shrugs lithely. “I can clean up well, given an incentive.”

“Would a dance with me be incentive enough?” Madara asks.

Sakura turns to look at him fully. It is hard to remember just how dangerous this man is; what he has done (or technically, what he is suspected of doing). She is reminded of the early days, of easy conversations around a family table, of heated discussions of morality. Back then, she didn’t know who Madara truly was.

Back then, she didn’t know _what_ he’d done.

“I’m afraid she’s promised me the first dance,” a voice cuts in.

Sakura’s blood turns to ice as she turns.

“Itachi,” Madara says, some surprise clear in his voice as is dark, authoritative intent. “Somehow I highly doubt such a promise was made.”

“No, he’s right,” Sakura interrupts, eyes cold as she regards her former partner. He looks frustratingly, impeccably good. “I _did_ make him a promise.”

Her lips curl slightly as Itachi flinches back, looking impossibly hurt. He doesn’t have any right to feel anything about her.

Not anymore.

Still, she lightly takes his hand, allowing him to guide her onto the dance floor.

She can feel Madara’s eyes crawling over her back but she doesn’t care. Shisui will be upset that she let her target go, that she has placed the case on hold, in return for her own personal vendetta, but she doesn’t care.

This is important to her.

Sakura remains malleable as Itachi takes one hand firmly and set his other on her waist. Sakura grabs his shoulder, itching to dig her nails in there, to make him _hurt_.

She wonders what he’d look like, coated in blood.

The way _she_ was.

“Sakura,” Itachi says softly, heart throbbing as her eyes focus on some distant point beyond his shoulder. “Please, for just a moment, can this all stop?”

Sakura’s eyes turn to him and it is ice settles into his spine. “ _I_ didn’t start this,” she says, words light but unrelenting.

“Sakura,” he whispers again, the name a plea that falls heavy from his tongue. It affects Sakura but she cannot let him see it. “Sakura, I am so sorry.”

Sakura laughs, almost choking on the bitterness as a sour taste fills her mouth. “You’re sorry? For what? Which part of it are you sorry for? The betrayal? The bullet? What?”

“All of it,” Itachi says in a low voice, eyes slipping shut. “I am so sorry.”

Sakura turns her gaze away, unable to bear the way his eyes stare down at her, glistening, watering, awash with self-loathing and false deities. She can’t bear to look at him.

“I know you can’t forgive me,” Itachi says and his voice is even closer to her now. She can feel his breath fanning hot and warm and alive and _real_ across her lips and it brings memories back so viscerally that it drops an anchor in the space above her heart and stays there.

She looks up at him because how can she not? She counts the freckles across the bridge of his nose (five, it’s always been five, since he was thirteen and she nine) and scowls.

“I know you can’t forgive me,” Itachi says again, this time his voice firm. It still cracks though, the same way it did in puberty and the way it does when he gets emotional. “And I’m not asking you to but,” He sighs against her lips, “just for a moment, can we pretend?”

Sakura hears the call for the bouquet toss, the perfect opportunity to leave.

She stays.

Sakura can feel him relax slightly and knows he recognizes the excuse too.

The song is winding down and Sakura aches to be elsewhere in this moment. Itachi leans down and brings their lips together, just barely.

It’s not really a kiss. It is nothing like their affections in the past, the teasing, roiling passion that belied their relationship. Here, their lips barely brush. Itachi doesn’t even really press their lips together, there is no pressure or heat to this kiss.

It is desperate all the same.

The song is almost over.

Itachi leans down to Sakura’s ear, breath lifting the few wispy hairs that escape her bun. “The…the bullet was never intended for you.”

Sakura feels scalded.

She leaps away from him, chest aching as if she were back in that helpless moment, sprawled on the concrete as her chest breaks in two, in both a literal and figurative way.

She was, after all, heartbroken that day.

“Sakura,” Itachi says, but he does not pursue.

But then, Sakura never expects him to anyway.

* * *

 

“Sakura,” Shisui says, stepping out onto the balcony.

“How’d you know I was out here?” Sakura asks, wiping at her eyes.

“Please Sakura,” Shisui laughs. “This was always your first choice when we played hide-and-seek as kids! You haven’t changed much.”

Sakura smiles but it falls quickly. “Others have.”

Shisui frowns, leaning his back against the rail as Sakura leans forward on her elbows.

“Sakura, I…I know this whole thing with Itachi is rough…”

“Rough?” Sakura demands, composure snapping. “ _Rough_? Itachi fucking shot me and you expect me to let it lie? I almost died!”

“I…I know,” Shisui swallows against the lump in his throat. “I’m so, so sorry. But Sakura…”

“What?” she asks, hands clenching into fists on the cold rail. “Are you going to fucking defend him?” Her voice chokes as she stares off into the distance, refusing to look at him. “You’re my…I thought you were my _partner_.”

She can no longer speak, sobs wracking her chest as phantom pain blooms from the scar left behind by the bullet. Sakura is surprised when two strong arms envelop her, holding her tight as her knees give out.

“No, Sakura, no,” Shisui whispers in her ear, clutching her close as they sink to the ground together. “That’s not it at all.”

“Then what?” Sakura bites out, rubbed raw by all of the events of the evening. “What is it?”

There is absolute silence for a long moment.

Finally, Shisui exhales in a shuddering breath and Sakura realizes he has been crying too. “It’s…god, Sakura. Itachi’s…he’s…” he trails off again.

“Tell me,” Sakura says.

“That bullet was meant for me,” Shisui says, barely even a murmur into the shell of her ear. “We planned it. Me, Itachi, the boss…”

“Why?” Sakura asks and she curses the way her voice cracks.

“Itachi’s undercover. _Deep_ undercover. He’s fighting the corruption from the underbelly as we fight from the top. It was supposed to be me,” Shisui says and his arms tighten as salty hot tears hit Sakura’s bare shoulder.

As they hit the scar that she wears on display tonight in defiance.

She cannot remember the last time Shisui cried, maybe when he was eleven and she, Naruto, and Sasuke had the bright idea to give him a haircut while he slept.

This…this is different.

“That bullet was for _me_ ,” Shisui says, arms almost unbearably tight. “We’d planned it out. Itachi was getting initiated, he had to get them to trust him so he was going to shoot me. It would’ve been in the shoulder, nonfatal but debilitating. But then…”

“I arrived.”

“You arrived and the plan went to shit,” Shisui says. “You got shot, almost bled out and Itachi…well, he’s never recovered. Neither have I. You’re our most precious person and to see you on the floor…”

Sakura clings to him, the only rock in the ocean that has just been upheaved. “What now?”

Shisui huffs. “We return home and pretend to know nothing.”

“And what about Madara?” Sakura asks numbly.

Shisui giggles and it sounds hysterical even to his ears. “About that…”


End file.
